


There's No Cure For What I'm Going To Do To You

by AceDhampir



Category: The Evil Within (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Other, Serial Killer Sebastian, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-19
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-05 02:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4161408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceDhampir/pseuds/AceDhampir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out...everything about STEM is a lie. Ruvik is a lie. Everything that's happened to Sebastian is a LIE. If none of it was true...then who killed all those people back in Krimson? This work is a co written piece. <br/>Sebastian thought moving to a new station in a new city with a new partner would make everything okay. Turns out he was wrong. Post Game.</p>
            </blockquote>





	There's No Cure For What I'm Going To Do To You

He’s been out of the hospital for one month now, and he’s doing alright. The medicine he’s on has weakened him, but he’s combating it well and is slowly getting back to where he once was. He’s truly good at this, forcing himself back into a role he may no longer be able to fill. This is no different. At least, it shouldn’t be. But something feels wrong- so horribly wrong that he can hardly bear it.

His dreams are gristly images and blood, and he can’t understand why Ruvik’s world is haunting him so horribly. While cooking dinner one night, he’s struck by the thought of how easy a sharp knife can pass through flesh. A chill runs down his spine, and he moves on.

But as days pass, the memories grow more vivid, troubled, and jumbled. He can’t stop thinking about them, which only makes it worse. And just when he thinks he’s hit his cracking point, he reaches for the bottle. At first, it’s contained and quiet. But surely Nate begins to notice the smell on him, just like Joseph did long ago.

That’s exactly what he’s going to do tonight as he heads home from the liquor store, bag in hand. He climbs the stairs with effort and finally gets inside, leaving the door unlocked and settling in. His coat is hung up neatly and his sleeves pushed back before he sits at the table with a glass and the bottle.

Time passes, and the fluid content decreases.

Nathan Akiyama is used to just walking in. Why not? He basically hangs out whenever he can. And maybe he’s just noticed that Seb’s been a bit odd. He expected him to be fucked up, but he thought it’d be better when the news that Azarov was dead came about. The Welshman wasn’t kidding when he said he was going to rip him apart. The body was mangled and in shreds. Either way, some form of dirty justice was served.

But apparently something else has been bothering him. He’s been acting odd. Maybe he needs Nate to stay for a few days, keep an eye on him. It helps they’re colleagues, at least.

“Hey, Seb?” He’s just walking on in, not even knocking. Ronan’s nowhere to be found, probably doing some cat thing, but the sight of Sebastian drinking gets an alarmed sound.

“Hey, what the hell are you doing? You trying to kill yourself?” He sounds harsh, but he’s just worried.

Seb pauses in his drinking, surprised at Nate’s appearance. He’s bleary-eyed, and they’re red. He’s been crying. He doesn’t find the words at first. He just sets the glass down and folds his hands together before they break apart again. Now he’s hugging hugging his arms against his body in a sure sign of insecurity and distress.

“Nate, I…” How much has he had? “Nate, I’m scared.” What’s going on? Is it the disease, or something else? “I’m sorry. It just numbs things sometimes, and I…” Oh, he’s in a bad place, alright.

“Okay, okay.” He’s a bit too upset to get angry at him right now, but Nate gingerly takes the glass and bottle away. “You can’t drink. Jesus, what’s gotten into you?”

He expects it by now, but that doesn’t make his concern any less. He’s been on booze patrol, even pledging sobriety to see if it helps. It means more energy drinks and less sleep for Nate, but he’s making it. He’s Seb’s only friend here, and the least he can do is gentle push him where he needs to be.

“Sorry about what? What’s going on, man?”

Sebastian doesn’t want to give up the glass or the bottle. Eventually, though, he does, and sinks back into himself. He’s very upset, and that doesn’t take much to see. So what is it, then, that has made him this way?

“Nate, I…oh my god, I…” WHAT? “Nate, it’s been…way too long. I just…I’ve hurt people.” Well, that’s one way to describe the job they’re in. “I don’t know how and I don’t know why or…oh, god, Nate…” Well, that’s definitely not about their job.

“Dude, Seb, that was in your head. STEM, remember? All of that wasn’t real.” His voice is low and he’s talking quietly, trying to keep him from being hysterical. He’s thinking Sebastian is referring to what happened to him while he was missing, and as far as Nathan understands it was just a nightmare. Though really, he doesn’t know how all that works.

“Just relax, you need to chill out. This is what happens when you mix alcohol with your meds.” Is it? He doesn’t take medication, never has. He wouldn’t know.

“No, before…before that. Months before. before. I…god, Nate, what did I do? I can’t remember.” He looks beyond disturbed now, panicked and heartbroken. “Nate, I think I hurt people.” He keeps insisting, and he’s terrified. “More than once. I think I did something bad.” Is this the alcohol talking, or him?

“I…fuck. Fuck, no.” He shakes his head and then leans forward, folded arms serving as a pillow on the table for his head. “I used to go to Elk River alone at night and I don’t know why. I remember driving. Not all the time. Just sometimes. I just keep remembering seeing this dead deer in the road and blood on my hands, and…” Elk River? Isn’t that where the serial killings Sebastian and his partner were investigating kept being found? It was also the site of many missing persons found dead in Beacon, and the site of a cult-like church.

He’s heard about that, read them in Seb’s files before he had been on duty in Detroit for too long. There’s a meow that distracts Nathan for a moment before he focuses back on Sebastian, confused but feeling bad for the bastard. “Look, Seb, that’s a cold case. Maybe it’s from when you were investigating. Maybe you hit roadkill. I wasn’t there but there’s a logical explanation.

"It makes sense, right? You like animals.” He assumes, given that he has an asshole cat he keeps around. “You were probably upset. It’s okay, dude. I know you. You wouldn’t purposely hurt someone.”

Does he really, though? Sebastian’s only been in his life for a few months after being missing for a year. There’s no telling what happened during that time before.

“It wasn’t the deer. I didn’t touch the deer. Why would I touch a dead deer?” He laughs softly, bitterly. “I never liked Elk River…Myra always wanted to go t'church, raise Lily right. We never went back after the funeral. I swore I never would. Why did I, Nate?…”  
Strange.  
“I need water. I should just rest. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to. I don’t remember why. So many cuts.” That’s…strange for drunken babbling. “So many cuts it got dull.”

“You’re freaking me out.” He likes being honest with Seb, at least. But he’s off to the fridge, grabbing a water and hanging it over, hoping it’ll help. “It’s the booze, alright? Your illness doesn’t work with it. You promised you wouldn’t drink.”

He sounds disappointed, but once Seb’s got his water and settling down, Nate’s deciding what to do. “I’ll stay over. Make sure you’ll alright. Ronan might be pissed I’m taking his spot on the couch but I need to make sure the alcohol doesn’t fuck with your system anymore or make you sick, okay?”

He’s not talking no for an answer. “We have copies of the files. We can look tomorrow, and you’ll see that the murders aren’t tied to you. You good to head in on your own?” He’s there, ready to be support if he needs.

“I guess.” He’s haunted, shell-shocked. How long has this been on his mind? He stands from the table and heads to his bedroom, clearly intoxicated but able to move on his own. “I’m really sorry. I just can’t shake the feeling I should remember, something horrible.” He rubs at the back of his arm and eventually closes the door softly behind him. He needs to rest.

A trip to the bathroom later and he’s in bed, still clothed and too exhausted and inebriated to worry about it. He curls up and hugs a pillow to him in a sure sign of insecurity and passes out hard until the following morning. Chances are he’s going to have to be woken up forcefully.

He’s acting weird, and Nate doesn’t like it. Neither does the cat, apparently, who’s decided on standing and jumping on and off Nate’s chest for a majority of the night. He doesn’t leave, however, too concerned for Sebastian’s safety and a bit confused. Where did this come from? The illness must be messing with his head.

Though…Sebastian was a survivor. Gone for an entire year, and before then, who knows? Always drinking, it’s only because of Oda he was allowed to keep his spot on the force. And being an officer would be an easy way to- No. Sebastian isn’t a killer. It doesn’t make sense…does it? He’s not so sure anymore, really.

When morning comes an angry meow gets him awake, and only a second later does his phone vibrate. Odd, he didn’t remember setting an alarm. Pulling himself up he’s wiping his face and heading towards Sebastian’s door to wake him up, just barging in and not even caring.

“Seb,” there’s a tap to Sebastian’s leg before he yawns. “Work.”

Not a morning person, obviously.

“Hmmph.” Sebastian isn’t a morning person. When nudged, he gets up slowly, curling on one side and then pushing himself up. He slides out of bed, not really caring how the bed ends up looking after the fact. Why would he? All he does is pass out in it.

“God. No more drinking. I’m sorry. About last night, I…STEM and reality just keep blurring together.” He sounds like he honestly believes it was his error, now. But the doubt is there, and Nathan can’t ignore it, now. “I know I shouldn’t. I’m just using it as an excuse to fall back on a bottle. No more, okay?” Without much care, he’s stripping off his shirt from the evening prior and changing it. There’s a nasty bruise on his hip, suggesting he probably had a bad fall. He’s dressed quickly enough and splashes his face with water before heading out with Nate to get moving for work.

“Good. I figured. You knew better anyway but I don’t fault you for relapsing. I’m still having problems too.” He yawns, not even bothering to change once he’s up and ready to go. “I’ll drive. Not gonna lie, I don’t trust your judgement much after last night. No offense, Sea Bass.”

At least he’s doing better, and hopefully when they get their heads into a case Seb might be a bit better off. His mustang is waiting in the lot and he’s headed straight for it, and Nate’s checking his wallet to see if he has enough to stop for coffee. Opening the door, he lets Seb leave first and gently presses his foot on Ronan’s side when the cat tries to run out. After that, he’s headed down the stairs, ready to go.

“That’s okay.” He won’t argue about driving right now. Funny, this echoes something Joseph did, making him hand over the keys and take a step back. In that instance, though, he showed up to work drunk. That’s a bit different. Quite frankly, it’s a miracle he didn’t report Sebastian then and there. And it’s also debatable if what ensued later was really Seb being preyed upon in his weaker and saddened state or not. Whatever the truth may be, he doesn’t regret it.

Sebastian follows Nate to the car and gets in, the Mustang hardly his normal style of ride. It’s ridiculous. He won’t comment, though. At least it isn’t a beetle, or a Smartcar.

“Hey. Can I buy you coffee this morning? To thank you for keeping me out of trouble?”

“I’d appreciate it. Can’t really afford it anyway.” He snorts, tuning the station to a morning show and driving off. Their scheduled has been changed a bit. Nate doesn’t mind mornings too much, and sleeping at Seb’s had has been a good transition. He’s also going sober, so the night helps with his insomnia a bit.

“Panera? They have great coffee.” They do, but the writer is still pissed at the company. “Actually, since you’re paying, Starbucks? We have an hour, I can run our next case by you and get you up to speed. Keep your mind off last night. How’s that?”

He’s not taking no for an answer. He’s getting his fucking frappachino, Goddamnit.

“Starbucks it is.” Sebastian agrees and checks his wallet, finding enough cash without a problem. “So long as you don’t make a 20 dollar drink.” It’s possible. He’s seen one up in the forties due to espresso shots online.

“Once again, I’m really sorry about last night. I’m being so unprofessional around you. I don’t mean to, but…things have changed for me. And I’m doing the best I can.” It’s an honest, heartfelt apology. “If there’s a problem, don’t be afraid to tell me to my face. I want to work through it instead of being fired, if possible.”

“It’s fine, dude. Just…remember your health. I care about that more than you being in a bender.” What a nice sentiment. He pulls into the parking lot, seeing the drive-thru full and having no need nor want to be waiting so long. “If something happens we’ll work around it. I have no reason to report you, and it wasn’t like that was interfering with your work.”

Seems good enough for him. “Just lose the booze, alright? Smoke if you have to, but don’t risk your health over something that isn’t real.” He’s being hard, but hopefully Sebastian understands why. Once inside he places an order, just a regular coffee, and pays for his own pastry while Sebastian gets what he wants. Man loves food. 

“I’ll do my best.” That’s all anyone can promise, and at least it’s sincere. He follows inside and gets the same. He’s not out for anything crazy today, and just needs the boost. It’s far better than what they have at the station, anyway. He pays and waits patiently until he has the warm cup in his hands. Time to doctor it. A bit of sugar and a dash of creamer- there, perfect. He’s good to go. Satisfied and happy about it, he lets out a long exhale and looks to Nate to see if they’ll be leaving or staying here a while. He double-checks to make sure he even remembered everything he needs today, glad to find that it’s all there. He doesn’t remember grabbing his phone, but thankfully it’s in his pocket.

Nate takes his straight. He gets enough sugar with the bear claw. He hasn’t been working out much, that makes him a bit obsessive with what he consumed and how he does so. He nods towards a table and takes a seat, hoping Sebastian will follow suite. They have time to piss about for a while.

“So basically, I figure you’ll want to work the murders we’ve got here. Lots of gross shit, dude. Like, mutilations, some of them are missing parts. It’s a bit gruesome so the faster we get on it the better it’ll be. I have the files all on my desk at the office.”

“Mutilations?” That makes him frown and sit up a bit straighter as he takes a cautious sip. He’ll probably burn his tongue anyway. He always does. “What, are they connected? I’m really hoping that’s a no. If we have a serial case…God, the last one of those I was on…” Left him prisoner in a mental hospital, brain damaged, and as of last night, feeling guilty.

“How far into those are you, and when was the most recent?”

“Sorry, but I think they’re connected. Similar MOs, all the work of someone very skilled in cutting and ripping people apart. But I’m not that far. I kinda glanced them before I got let off. The most recent was a young woman in her twenties found in the more woodsy areas a few weeks ago, just a bit older than me. Lots of deep cuts and it looks like she was tortured before she was killed. Really gruesome. I’ll show you the crime scene photos when we get to the office.” They are eating breakfast, so no sense in spoiling it with gross stuff.

“It’s the last of a few bodies we’ve been finding recently. It was more before you were captured by Azarov and then it stopped for a while. The killer must be starting back up, probably takes a break every few murders.”

“Shit.” The description causes Sebastian to pause and rub at his neck in insecurity for a moment. That sounds brutal, and familiar. He’s not so sure he wants to get too deep into this one, but he doesn’t have a choice. “Well, if we think they’re starting up again, we’d better hurry. I’ll do what I can, but if you notice me zoning out or slipping, just gently get me back on track.” Sebastian savors his coffee in silent thought before he offers something else.

“Back in Krimson, when bodies started showing up mutilated…well, the descriptions in the paper and on TV were graphic, and people were saying it was too much. But we toned it down. It was so bad that a lot more than rookies were losing their lunch. Even in the morgue, people kept having to take a step back. Worst of all, we were never able to convict anyone. And knowing what I do…nobody ever will be.”

What does Seb mean? He’s confused, but he’s already gathering up his trash and throwing it away. When he returns, he gives Sebastian a confused look. Knowing what he does? Being a detective? That’s an odd thing to say. But then he’s also thinking about what Sebastian said the night before. Seb’s his friend, but he wont hesitate to bring him in if something’s wrong. Obviously his attitude about that has changed since the accident with Azarov.

“We’re gonna take a trip to the morgue and see the latest body. A lot of the cuts match the ones from Krimson, but I’m hoping you can help put it together. And if you start to freak out I can handle it, but I wanted to have you by my side again.” He grabs his coat, waiting for Seb to get rid of whatever trash he has and gets ready to lead them out. They have to get to work on time, of course.

“Okay.” He appreciates it, obviously, and he quickly stands to follow. He’s savoring what’s left of his coffee, but if Nate doesn’t want it in his car he won’t bring it. “That’s one way to start the morning. If it matches Krimson, I’ll know on sight, I’m sure. I spent way too long on those cases to do anything else.” It’s confidence, or at least him trying to show that he’s useful. Either way, he’s making a valiant attempt.

“Nate…? About last night? Thanks for making me stop drinking.”

“It’s either let you drink yourself dead or try and keep you from going off the brink.” He doesn’t care if Seb brings his in so long as he doesn’t spill it. “I promised I’d help, Seb. Your disease will be hard to deal with but eventually you’ll make it. That’s why I’m trying too. Both of us could use it. You ever start needing a drink, just call me next time, alright?”

About thirty minutes later, they’ve checked in and are heading into the morgue. The mortician a slightly overweight, older woman with a pleasant smile. Odd, for her profession.

“Hello detectives.” She has a southern accent, something that kind of throws Nate off. “This one’s not as bad as the others. Cut up and ragged, though, but she fought him pretty well. We think the unsub was maybe weakened by something.”

There she is, tarp pulled, and she looks rather kept together, but there’s some deep cuts on her pale body.

Sebastian’s blood runs cold. Absolutely, horrifically cold. And as he stares down the body, he feels a wave of nausea wash over him. He takes a step back and looks away, steeling himself, before he glances over again. Tentatively, he strides closer and takes a peek again. He speaks, quietly, and keeps his gaze locked on the body.

“Excuse me, ma'am? Can we talk alone, please?” He looks to her, pleading. Hopefully she takes it to mean he’s just embarrassed to seem this weak.

“O'course.” She departs, leaving the two of them alone and not caring the reason why. She’s used to it by now.

Nate’s concerned. Seb’s freaking out again, and he’s already moving to cover the body back, thinking it’s making the detective sick or something.

“Hey, man, you okay?” Nate steadies a hand on Seb’s shoulder, gripping him for support and watching with worried brown eyes. He’s oblivious to the body, all eyes on his partner, hoping he’s alright.  "Want me to handle this? I can do it myself, you can head back and rest. What’s buggin’ you?“

"No…no, Nate….fuck, Nate, I…” His voice cracks, and when he looks over, his eyes are brimming with tears. “Nate, I KNOW her. I’ve SEEN her before. I don’t KNOW her, not personally, but I’ve SEEN her.” His hands are shaking as he leans on the metal table. “Nate, I fucking KNOW her.”

That’s a strong reaction for a man who probably just saw her at a store at some point, or in a parking lot, or on the street…or at night, alone.

“Okay, okay, Seb, calm down.” He’s hysterical, and the best he can do is try and get Sebastian calm. “What do you mean you know her?”

Nate’s his only friend. He knows this. But he could have met her in the hospital or bumped into her at some point. Something had to explain it. He’s trying to keep up with Seb as back he can, loosening his grip and trying to project that Sebastian can trust him. He probably needs it, in his state.

“No, Nate, I…I…don’t KNOW.” The panic isn’t falling. “I don’t know.” His words break off and his eyes shut tightly. “I…remember some things. I don’t know. Like what I told you yesterday. Nate, I…think…” He straightens up and hugs his arms across his chest. What he says next is a quiet whisper.

“I…I’m scared I’ve hurt people, Nate. I can’t remember how, or why, but…”

“Fuck,” oh, clearly Nate’s not handling this well. “Seb you didn’t do this. I know you dude. I…I know…”

Does he, though? Does he really know him? He’s known Seb for two months, and most of what he actually knows about him he read in a file. But Sebastian’s his partner, his friend. Maybe he’s overreaching and maybe he just wants to pretend that Seb doing this isn’t real and that he’s freaking out over nothing.

“Do you want to make sure? There’s testing we can do. Forensics has some smudges and we can test your weapons. You have that big knife with you, right? Show you you’re just freaking out.”

He’s basically asking if Sebastian wants him to take him in, but he’s not wanting to arrest him. He has no reason to. Seb’s confession could just be crazy talk.

“Th…my knife?” There’s a puzzled frown as he thinks about it. “I…don’t remember where I left it.” Uh, oh. That’s not a good sign. “I haven’t seen it since before Azarov got me. It might be at home, I guess, or…somewhere.” In truth, he has no idea what became of it. Would that survival knife match with these wounds? The only time he ever used a knife like that on a person was in STEM, and it was for quick kills to the head, nothing more, or beneath the jaw. He has no idea what the one he bought once freed would do to a person.

“I…Nate…” He looks anguished now. “That night, with the deer. And the blood. Nate, what did I do?”

“I don’t know, Seb.” He’s quiet, like he’s thinking. “We can still get some things checked. Boot prints, there’s half a finger print. Show you they don’t match. Then we can get you on leave.” He’s trying so hard to help his friend. It’s obvious Nate cares a lot about him, but he’s still a bit skeptical. The killings did stop when Seb was in the hospital, and this one was a lot sloppier than the others.

But he couldn’t have.

“Don’t worry about the deer. It was a dead deer, that’s all. There’s an explanation, Seb. There always is. Come on, let’s get you checked out, okay? Put this mess behind you. Get you focused. I can’t have a partner who’s freaking out. It’ll stop the case for both of us.”

“Yeah. I don’t wear boots.” He gives the weakest smile, taking some kind of glad relief in the statement. “Okay. Let’s do it. I’m not going to be able to sleep unless I know. I…shit. This reminds me so much of Krimson. Back then, there was a partial print, one time. But the evidence got…destroyed…in a…” And the faint hope drops.

“…in a fire.”

Oh.

Seems good. Nate thanks the coroner and leads Sebastian out, driving back to the station. It’s a big process and Nate has a hard time explaining it to the forensics why they need a comparison of the prints. But he’s the detective, and if he says it’s evidence, it’s evidence. It takes a while. Nate offers to get them lunch until the prints are ran. There’s a 80% chance of accuracy with the finger print, they just hadn’t ran it yet with the overflow of work going on. Detroit, always stuffy with work.

Eventually, Nate gets a text and has a file transferred to him. It’s by late afternoon, and when he checks his messages, he feels like his entire world shattered.

It’s a match.

Sebastian’s prints match the bloody smears on the body.

Oh God.

Sebsatian, of course, can’t see the message. He’s distracted with the lemonade in his hand, gaze out the window and grip tight on the frosty glass. They’ve been quiet for a long time now, so the break in conversation doesn’t get his attention until it extends for a long time. His gaze turns to Nate now, blank and concerned…and that’s when he reads the look on the other’s face for what it is, and his stomach plummets. There’s a quiet, shaky exhale as his hand falls away from the glass. He doesn’t know what to say. What DO you say?

He pulls out his wallet, leaves enough to cover the meals and then some, and slides it away before he quietly speaks.

“Do we…need to go outside?” He’d rather be cuffed out of large public view, is what he’s really asking. And he looks heartbroken.

“I’d rather not do this…I just…It doesn’t mean anything.” It means everything. “But…I need to take you to the station, Sebastian. I…I’m so sorry.”

What is he sorry for? Clearly, Seb knows what’s happened. That it was a match. But Sebastian’s his friend.

“We do this quietly. Nobody sees. I don’t want you humiliated. I’ll…I’ll read you your rights in the car.” He’s not expecting Sebastian to fight him. And in his state, Nate can easily overpower him. But he’s serious about keeping this clean. He feels like he’s betraying his closest friend. He’s really moments from crying. He tried so hard to convince himself that this was all crazy talk.

He’s going to lose his only friend.

He leads him outside, unlocking his mustang and waiting until they’re inside and out of view of anyone before he speaks the Miranda Rights, knowing Sebastian knows them, but it’s protocol. He doesn’t cuff him. He’s waiting until thy return to the station. At least Nathan is the one handling this. When they arrive, there’s a look of sadness in Nate’s face that shows exactly how he feels about this. He doesn’t get out yet, just looks tiredly over at his partner. “I’m so sorry, Sebastian. I just…I thought…I thought this would make it easier.”

He’s letting him take his time before they go in.

Sebastian is quiet, and no trouble comes from him. For the ride, he’s silent, labored breathing betraying that he’s near tears. His hands ball together on his lap, palms sweaty and mind whirling a thousand miles a minute. He can’t look at Nathan. When they arrive, he sinks into his seat and closes his eyes, forcing himself to breathe. There’s a panic attack on the horizon, but he isn’t going to try to bolt. He couldn’t make it, anyway. He knows that.

“I’m sorry.” It’s a quiet thing, the words almost breathless. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember. I don’t know why. I…fuck.” There’s a tear or two. His eyes flick open and he reaches up to clean his cheek and keep his eyes from brimming over. “I don’t know. It’s just this burning, in my head, and I…I remember her. I remember her, and…and Krimson…” Oh. Oh, no.

“The serial cases in Krimson. Oh, God. Nate, did I…?”

Shoot yourself. He hasn’t disarmed you yet because he trusts you. Go for your gun. He’ll either take you out or you can fire on yourself. Blow your brain out. Do it. Do it and end this. DO IT.

The urge strikes him, and he wants to act. But his body is frozen in shame at the very idea.

“The evidence against you is really strong Sebastian. I…They haven’t made matches yet. I’m praying you have an alibi for her ToD, because I wasn’t with you. But…with how similar the cuts are…you might have.”

He clears his throat, trying really hard not to lose it here. He holds his hand out, waiting for Seb to surrender his weapon before he leaves the car to unlock the door and walk him in. He won’t handcuff Sebastian yet, not unless he tries something. He respects him too much, even now, to do it.

“Come on.”

“I don’t know.” He’s not just saying it to feign mental instability, either, and he won’t have to. He’s been lobotomized, for christ’s sake, and even if Krimson was him, they can’t kill him for it now that there’s no arguing he doesn’t have the mental capacity of a normal person. This will cause horrible repercussions to those who let him keep his job, too. He unbuckles his seatbelt and holds up his left hand in plain sight as a sign of surrender while he slowly moves his right to unholster his weapon and hand it over, fingers nowhere near ready to put the weapon to use. Once the pass-off is done, he goes for the extra mags he carries and hands them over as well before his hands fall again.

He gets out slowly, almost losing his balance as he does so. There’s a moment’s pause as he reaches to his belt, gaze averted as he hands over his badge. He’ll either get it back, or it would be taken from him, anyway. He’s surrendered.

Nathan’s quiet. He didn’t expect this. It…saddens him above everything. Gently, he grabs Sebastian’s arm for support and leads him in, not wanting to spook him more than he already is. This has to be killing him, and Nate doesn’t know how to process it.

Seb needs to be fingerprinted and photographed, and Nate leads him in for it, but before anything happens Nate gives Seb a gentle pat on the arm. He was originally going to go in for the hug, but he sees that might be a bit awkward considering he’s the arresting officer.

“I’m sorry.” It’s all he can say now. God, what is he going to do? There’s no way Seb will get his job back, not from being a killer, and this now links him to every single death recorded in Krimson and Detroit. What’s worse is he’s not part of a vigilante group. He can’t skate out of this one or call a portal and break out.

Once Seb’s getting his stuff one, Nate finds a waiting area and just drops to a chair, sinking in until he leans forward and starts to sob. He trusted Sebastian. He looked up to him and grew to care for him deeply as a friend. Hell, the man even took his virginity. He’s messed up by this quite a lot, and he doesn’t know if he can recover.

Sebastian holds it together for processing and photos. But the instant he’s alone in an interrogation room, that composure breaks. There’s only so far his hands can move chained to the table. He hunches over, forehead resting on his fists, and he sobs. The pain is so great that he wishes he could die. He doesn’t want to face this. He doesn’t want to have to go through this. Why can’t they just shoot him now and get it over with?

Obviously, Nate won’t be the one to face him first. And it’s hard to say whether he’ll be allowed to be on the case at all, everything considered. If he wanted, Nate could slam him with unprofessional conduct, too, what with their one night, that one time. Sebastian wouldn’t even care at this point. He’s lost everything now, and he just wants to die before guilt has even been declared.

He holds together as best as he can for the initial interrogation once there’s a lawyer present. But it doesn’t take much to make it clear he isn’t going to try and deny his guilt. The lawyer knows it, too. They want to stave off the death penalty, when it all comes down to it, not get him off the meat hook.

Hours of dizzying questioning pass, and he’s being slapped with charges for other murders in Detroit. Confused and broken, he never changes his story.

“I know her. I don’t know them. I swear to god, I don’t know them. I didn’t do that. I didn’t. I killed her, not them. Oh, god. Please. Please believe me.”

But nobody will.

Nate’s on forced leave, and the first place he goes is home and he calls Vic, not wanting to be alone. He would have called Mick or Ethan, but they’re on vacation. He just doesn’t want to be alone.

He follows the trial, watching as Sebastian gets held accountable for the murders in Detroit…all of them, as a serial killer. He won’t be tried for the ones in Krimson until he’s transferred. Nate doesn’t tell anyone about the drinking or the one time fling when he’s interrogated, instead just says he never expected this and he cared for his partner greatly, just that there was something wrong with him.

Unfortunately, the detectives on the case aren’t so kind.

Sebastian is found guilty for several counts of murder and is due back for a transfer to Krimson. Nate was told to stay away, but he can’t help but show up and say goodbye. He’s a wreck over it, and it shows with how red and tired his eyes are. He wasn’t allowed visitation but the minute he hears Seb’s leaving, he does his best to get in.

They have an hour for visitation. Hopefully Nate’s lucky.

Sebastian is a wreck. Somewhere along the line to at least look presentable in court, he cleaned up a bit. Shorter hair, an actual attempt to shave. Of course, stubble’s coming back now. He’s spent the last two days curled up on his bed, unmoving unless forced to. Bags under his eyes speak volumes for his exhaustion and fatigue. There’s a tremor in his hands, too.

He’s not expecting Nate when he’s left alone at the table for visitation. He expects some reporter, maybe someone to explain what’s going to happen, even though he already knows. He’s hunched and defeated, and he rarely makes eye contact anymore. When the door opens, the footsteps are familiar. Dull, bloodshot eyes flick up…and he feels himself break all over again. Nathan’s the one he’s let down the hardest, and it eats him up.

“Hey.” It’s quiet, forced. “They’re…sending me to Krimson.” Nate probably knows that, but he offers it anyway. “There will be some…days in cou…court, before…” He knows where he’s going to end up. And the look on his face says it all. “I don’t want to go back there.” Would they really be so cruel, as to imprison him in the same place he fought so hard to escape from? It’s been completely renovated, and it’s under new control now. “I’ll kill myself if they make me go back there, Nate, I…I can’t…” Quiet tears, now.

“I didn’t…I didn’t touch the others here. I didn’t. Just her. Not them. B…but my lawyer said it would be easier if I just…”

“Yeah,” hes quiet, dressed in civs. He’s unshaven and looks really tired, and with how clean his face usually is it’s amazing he even has the stubble he does. Must be the Brazilian in him. “I wanted to see you off. They refused to give me any details. I know you didn’t hurt everyone else. I can feel it. But they wont let you off.”

He wants so bad to break him out, but that would put his career on the line. And it’s not right. Seb would want him to follow the rules on this. He sighs, digging in his pocket and handing over a little ziplock bag. “Best part about being a cop is, if you don’t have metal they usually don’t care what you have. They’re dino shaped. Thought you could use some. They might be cold now, though.”

He…he snuck in chicken nuggets. Well, he did want to give him a parting gift, and he really doesn’t know what Seb likes outside his odd food choices though he doubts the man is up for eating. He won’t be allowed to take them back out. “Ronan’s been unhappily staying at my place. But I didn’t want to send him to a shelter. I…I know you’ll have the trial. But I’m…” He snorts bitterly. “Because I technically arrested the Elk River killer, they’re looking into promoting me. I’ve tried turning it down but the chief isn’t having it. It’ll be a while before I can visit. I’m sorry. But Ill try. Krimson is only a few hours away.”

“Congrats.” It’s honest, although bitterly so. The little gift gets the briefest and faintest of smiles, but it falls quickly. “I…don’t remember what I did back then. I honestly don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot, these days. The headaches are getting worse.” He shuffles with the cuffs and gets a nugget, not about to turn it down. He probably won’t be able to get more than one down, but he might as well.

“You can just let Ronan go. He’s…ah, shit.” There’s a brief chuckle, fake though it is. “You already think I’m crazy. And that’s because I am. He’s not just a cat, Nate. You’ve seen weird things. This is just another. Let him go. He’ll be fine on his own. Trust me. He can’t die.” Did Ronan know about him, and what he’s done? Either way, he doubts the man is going to keep him company. Why would someone who died by a serial killer fraternize with one?

“The Elk River killer…fuck…such a stupid name.” He takes a bite, expression humorless. “And I’ll never hear the end of it. It’s like that one character, on that show. They call him Kingslayer all the time. This will be mine. Except all I did was horrible, horrible things that I wish they’d just kill me for now so they’d save me the trouble of finding a way later.”

He’s serious. He’s suicidal. Will Nate report it?

Not just a cat? It’s weird, but it makes sense. He likes to meow a lot and turn on the electronics, and wake Vic up constantly. He never could figure that out.

“Okay. If you’re sure he’s okay. I just really like animals. I don’t want him to get hurt.” He snorts, though he frowns again when Seb mentions how suicidal he is. That worries him, but he won’t report it unless he has to. He respects Seb and expects him to be at least rational.

“If you need anything, call me. I can go or Vic or whoever I can send. They can help you. Even…even for that.” Oh, that’s a strange offer. But it’s made. “I’m sorry all this is happening. First the kidnapping, then your illness, now all this, I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. You’re sick. Mental health isn’t easy. But I wish…I wish Krimson wasn’t fighting to keep you there. If you were here it would be easier, y'know? Or…something. I just didn’t want any of this.”

“Nate…they’re not going to let me make phone calls.” He smiles softly, the expression weak but thanks to the offer. “You know that.” He’ll be cut off from the outside world, and he knows it. “Just…just promise me. If I haven’t…within the year, I can get help to.” Oh. Oh, god. He’s set himself a deadline. And he’s serious about it, too. Will Nate actually assist him like that?

But the life he’s going to have to live now will be heavily-medicated, constantly monitored, restrained, and going through therapy. It isn’t as nightmarish as days past, and it won’t be sheer torture like his captivity, but he won’t be himself when they have him drugged. And if he were to try and fail…

He’d never get the chance to try again, more than likely.

“I wish I knew what happened in Krimson. Why. Maybe I’ve always been sick. I’m a disappointment, and now I’m…scared that…Lily, Myra…fuck…STEM, Joseph…how much of it was just me…making up excuses? To forget?” Of course, STEM was real. And Joseph? That isn’t on him. But now he doubts even the core of who he is.

“Mick’ll help you if the time comes. He feels like he owes you, even after sending back Azarov’s body. I won’t mess with his weird ass morals.” But he won’t help.  He can’t help. The idea hurts him too much and he doesn’t want the opportunity. He just…can’t. He won’t want anything to do with hurting Sebastian, it seems.

“Sebastian they were real. All that stuff that happened was real. I read the files.” Is Sebastian suggesting he’s behind the fire? That scares him a bit more. “You’re sick. It’s not your fault you’re this way. But…but you have to suffer for it. That’s just how it is. I’m afraid it’ll only get worse. Maybe it’ll help. I just…I don’t know hat to tell you, man.” There’s come chatter from behind and Nate lets out a sigh.

“I’ll try to visit in a month. But between my job and planning something I might not be there until late. But I’ll try. I have to go soon.”

“Planning something?” Curious, but he lets it die. “None of my business. Bye, Nathan. Thank you.” Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t…too late. “You should…should probably go now.” He gives the other permission to leave, quieting the tremor in his hands by clasping one into a fist and cupping the over around it to squeeze.

When he’s alone, he breaks down all over again.

The transfer is quick. The court dates are just to pile more on him. He admits guilt to everything, tearfully, apologizing so hard that he’d probably get on his knees at this point. When sentence is passed, he collapses. Incarceration at Beacon, for life.

Regardless of whether the viewer knows him or not, the footage is haunting.

“I’m sorry! Please, not there! ANYWHERE but there, please! PLEASE!”

Castellanos, 35, escaped false imprisonment at Beacon Memorial one year prior, for a period of 13 months. He escaped with massive brain trauma and horrific injuries. Fate, it seems, has opened its doors for him again to pay for his crimes.

This has been NBC nightly news. Goodnight, America.

Two months later.

Sebastian Castellanos, better known as the Elk River Killer, was found dead today, having sliced his own throat with a sharp piece of plastic. It took him multiple attempts to get the cut deep enough. He bled out slowly, and was positioned so he was not found until today despite the attempt being the one prior.

Castellanos has no family.

He will be buried in the same cemetery as his daughter, Lily Castellanos, who died in a mysterious blaze years prior.

Prologue.

Nathan’s packing to head to Krimson.

He finally got time off, and eventually saved enough for the trip after he bought the ring. He hasn’t done anything yet. He’s a bit too nervous. Mick’s pressuring him about it any time the Welshman sees him, and honestly he’s too busy. Jumping from junior to head detective like he did has been overwhelming and he hasn’t had any time for himself until now.

Mick’s here to pick up his cat. Nate’s figured out what Ronan is, and they found their own way of communicating. The ghost has decided to stick around, more of less due to the fact he has nowhere else to go. Nate doesn’t mind.

For some reason the Welshman is off. He mentions something before showing Nate a news clip on his phone. The news nearly crushes Nate.

Seb’s killed himself. His closest friend is dead.

He spends two days off work and stays locked in his apartment. No one bothers him, not when he’s so upset. He knew Seb was suffering, but losing him just…stings. He feels empty, lost. Seb was who he went to for guidance. He was used to it when he as in the hospital, but knowing he won’t see him again…

Eventually, he does visit Krimson. Just hangs around the graveyard until he can’t stand to be there. Seb didn’t get a funeral. No one would have shown up. Except Nate. Maybe that’s why it stings more.

He doesn’t stay, just heads back to Detroit the same night, stopping when he can’t even keep his eyes open.

Police work never feels the same.


End file.
